Last of the Ancients
by loquaciousbore
Summary: The FEV experiments were finally successful. They had created the perfect human being. Yet, all their work was for naught as the Great War began that day, hiding every trace of their accomplishment in cryogenic stasis. It would stay this way for almost 40,000 years until the thawing would begin. How will this being react to the grimness of the far future. Prologue is up


I obviously do not own either Fallout or Warhammer 40k those honors go to Bethesda and Games Workshop respectively. This is my first fic. So I would be very pleased if you left a review. I'm no english professor so forgive me if there are any grammar mistakes or clunky sentences. am still deciding if this will be a one or two-shot or a further-developed story. So thank you guys and I hope you enjoy.

October 23 - 2077

"That was the key… all along." Head Scientist, Dr. Albert Dreifus mused, "Cryogenics. Hm... how novel." "Indeed doctor, our readings so far show a more controlled FEV mutation in subject 13 than in previous subjects, as we intended of course." Dreifus turned to the co-director of the FEV project Dr. Hans Freinzer, "Yes, indeed… very good." "Interestingly" continued Hans, "After six months of the treatment, muscle density has skyrocketed." "As expected, like the others." Said Dreifus, "But…" enunciated Hans, "muscle size has and skin color have remained at normal baseline levels." "So… the subject is expected to be stronger, yet remain visually similar?" asked Dreifus. "Yes," the co-director replied. "Acceptable… anything else?" questioned Dreifus. "Vision and nerve impulse speed is expected to improve by at least fifty percent and, most importantly, the subject's IQ is expected to increase by sixty percent." Hans replied. "Yes!" Dreifus almost shouted. "This is new!" "There's still a problem," countered Hans, "The sterility encountered by other subjects… is still present." Dreifus deflated, "Well still, its progress. This is our first real success. At least the subject didn't turn into a monster like the others, and he seems to still have his faculties intact." Dreifus stated as he looked up at the cryogenic stasis pod.

Through a tiny two foot thick porthole in the outer shell of the pod was a man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, with a pale yet rugged looking face. Blue eyes and a single craggy scar broke the pallid tableau of the man's face. The cold sleep only made him look paler, his usually intense and alert face set into a mask of somnolence.

Back in the refuge of his office Dr. Dreifus looked down at his files, "Jean-Paul Dufort, 29 years old, biological age: 28 years." He looked at the file as he had multiple times before. He had read this so many times in the preceding year, but he was still impressed. The subject was quite an exceptional man. Raised by his father, a car mechanic, in a small town in Louisiana, he hadn't been anything quite special before the war, but he later joined the U.S. army soon after the beginning of the Anchorage Reclamation campaign as a military engineer and power armor mechanic. He soon found his place in the heat of combat and proved himself very well in the final battles in the Alaskan theatre and during the commencement of the invasion of China itself. He subsequently was recruited by the much-vaunted Marine Raider Taskforce 31. Also known as the "Dark Scions." This select group of power-armored elites were provided with the most cutting edge training and technology that the U.S. military had to offer. They had specialized in precise, yet brutal strikes, facilitated by quick insertion by helicopter jumps and assault landing craft. Dufort had proven himself worthy of the Scions in some decisive raids in China and was soon promoted to Lieutenant and was given charge of a platoon. His career was bound to soar, but when West-Tek had put out a notice for military volunteers for testing a new "Enhanced Combat Drug" he had been one of the first to respond. Dreifus chuckled grimly to himself… if only he'd known what he was getting into. A few days later his platoon found that he and all his equipment had simply disappeared. The official statement had been that Dufort had been sent on, "extended medical leave." The FEV division couldn't have risked word leaking out about what was going on. If people knew about all their failures and those abominations it would… well… it would create a public shit-storm. Dreifus cradled his head. All those subjects turned into those… monsters. He knew he was responsible for those failures, and the weight of all those deaths was placed squarely on his back.

But… it had been worth it. Though there were still a few things to be ironed out, they had succeeded. They had successfully created a super-human. Stronger, smarter, faster, and far more durable than any man before him had been, this was the future of the Human Race.

Dreifus was interrupted from his meditations by the security chief. A hulking man, the tallest man Dreifus had ever seen in fact, with shoulders that would make a gorilla jealous, Davian Anatolia was a powerful, yet strangely charismatic man, possessing a bronzed complexion and dark, neck-length hair. "Doctor Dreifus, the two prototype Sentry Bots have arrived… they're magnificent pieces of work." "That's good, when will they be ready?" "We'll have them in place in less than ten minutes." "And deployment protocols?" Dreifus asked. "They'll be deployed in the event of a localized mainframe hacking attempt or a forced opening or destruction of the vault door. Also, they are equipped with a newly developed IFF system so that in the event of deployment you guys should be fine." "Good work Chief Anatolia, you are dismissed." Dreifus sighed, the presence of the security chief unsettled him. Dreifus felt that something wasn't quite right about that man. Despite his youth he seemed so… old. Shaking off those thoughts Dreifus continued his work.

Suddenly, klaxons began blaring. Dreifus walked out of his office to the sight of people rushing to and fro. "What the hell is happening!" he demanded of a nearby security guard. "According to incoming reports, multiple nuclear detonations have been recorded in major cities in the U.S," he said, "We need to evacuate this facility, so get the hell out of here!" "Damn it!" Dreifus exclaimed, "What about us, our lives, we'll all die out there!" "We have Vertibirds waiting out there to take you to a nearby vault! If you don't start running right now though chances are you'll get left behind, so move it damn it!" "But what about the subject and the experimental reactor!" "Screw them!" yelled the guard "It's your life or theirs! Well whatever you choose I'm getting the hell out!" The guard started running down the corridor towards the vault door. Dreifus looked back at the cryo-pod and hesitated. He hesitated only for a second then started running towards the entrance. He didn't look back again.

The man known as Davian Anatolia was the last to leave the Experimental Vault. He strode down the corridor into the main room of the vault. He had an important task to carry out. He stood for a second in front of the cryo-pod then turned to the control monitor. He found it heavily encrypted. Not that something as mundane as that would stop him. A golden glow emanated from his eyes as he conversed with the machine spirit of the vault mainframe and convinced it to give him access to its most private inner systems. He changed the cryo-pods settings from the semi-stasis state used in the mutation trial to a complete freeze to ensure the subject's indefinite survival. He and his DNA would perhaps be needed for future use. He also ensured that the cryo-storage facilities would hold out. The facility was used to store experimental weaponry and armor for extended periods of time, which could later come in handy. Lastly, He ensured that the reactor was stable and found that it was expected to run about 38,000 years. "Well, that gives me quite some time to fish him out of here." The ancient being chuckled out to himself. The glow subsided in his eyes. He was finished here. He looked through the glass once more. "You look to be shaping up to be quite an exceptional being." He said, "I'll be back for you." He turned and walked to the vault door. As it closed behind him he looked out to see a view of endless fields of wheat and farther off hundreds of miles away, the tell-tale signs of nuclear detonations, mushroom clouds. "Well now that that's finished with…" He sighed, "I have so much to do." The man who in the future would be known as the God-Emperor of Mankind walked off into the fields of grain to disappear for tens of thousands of years until the founding of the Imperium of Man.

On October 23, 2077 the Great War began and ended. The war itself lasted little under three hours, yet the world, and humanity, would be on its knees for hundreds of years after it. Eventually, Humanity would pick itself up and look to the stars for a new home. Colonies all over the galaxy would be established and humanity would prosper. Yet, again it would fall. This time it would fall to AI and the emergence of a new factor in the human race: Psykers. These powerful humans could control the very essence of a parallel dimension known as the warp, bending reality to their wills. Yet, they were very vulnerable. Armies of unfathomably horrifying monsters could and would spawn from their "gift". In those dark times that would be not be the only evil. An abomination would be born out of the sins of another galactic race, the Eldar. It would be the god of pervasion and excess, Slaneesh. Its birth scream would kill millions of Eldar and greatly disturb the warp. These "Warp Storms" would prevent ships from using the warp to travel, isolating all of the human colonies. Thus human civilization would decline into an "Age of Strife."

This would continue for many millennia until a great man would rise up. He would create armies of genetically modified soldiers and later give life to twenty "Primarchs." These "Primarchs," his sons, would be by his side as he made humanity great again. He would come to liberate Terra from the techno-barbarians and would launch a great crusade to reunite all of humanity and to regain the glory that it had lost. He would almost succeed. His favorite son, Horus, would lead half of the Primarchs into the dark servitude of the foul gods of Chaos and betray the God-Emperor. Horus would be destroyed, but not before mortally wounding his father. The Emperor would be interned into the Golden Throne to suffer for humanity in eternal agony, not living, yet not blessed with death. Over the next ten millennia his empire, the Imperium, would degenerate into a decaying, stagnating theocracy fighting a losing war against a multitude of enemies both within and without. Yet, among the darkness there would be a glimmer of hope, a remnant of Ancient Terra forty millennia before. The question is, would this light turn progress into a fire, or would it be snuffed out like so many of those before it; because after all, **In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future There is Only War.**


End file.
